


Everything Changes, but Beauty Remains

by SegaBarrett



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Frederick has medical issues, Future Fic, people have kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 15:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4671578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frederick and Freddie have a simple life together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything Changes, but Beauty Remains

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Hannibal, and I make no money from this. 
> 
> A/N: This is my first Hannibal fic and it's probably a mess. But after the last episode (3x12 - in the US so I haven't seen 3x13 yet) I needed this. This is also probably really medically unrealistic, but I tried to research skin grafts and lip reconstructions and everything I found was super technical. So, dramatic license I suppose :)
> 
> Also, this title is from Kelly Clarkson's "A Moment Like This".

“I think I’ve bargained them down to a rat.”

“Excuse me?” 

Freddie Lounds crouched slightly to scoop up her car keys before staring at her husband. 

“I believe they started with a horse, followed by a dog, but I’ve successfully bargained them down to a rat. Or, well, a pair. You’re not supposed to have one alone.”

Freddie cocked her head to the side. 

“I’m not taking care of it, and don’t let it look at me,” she said finally. Frederick Chilton was quite good at his current position, as much as it lacked the prestige of his previous one. That was all in the past, though – it had been twelve years since Frederick had worked professionally as a psychiatrist.

“I promise to take full responsibility.” He leaned in, propping his chin up with his hand, curling his lips like he was trying them out all over again (that had been a good ten years back). “I was quite a good rat handler in medical school.”

“We are not getting a medical school rat,” Freddie replied. “Here, girls, this one has ebola.”

Frederick chuckled.

“No ebola rats. I promise…” He paused. “What’s taking them so long?”

He pulled himself up, briefly, to his full height, hand dangling on the handlebar of the wheelchair. 

As if on cue, the twins rocketed down the stairs, with Laura stopping to attempt a slide down the bannister that only resulted in minor injury.

“We’re going to be late,” Frederick mused. “We won’t get a nice spot next to the beer.”

Laura curled up her nose.

“Dad, we told you. Only the adult splash parties have beer.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Freddie said, “Given some of the folks I saw at the last one of these.” She scooped up a cooler into her arm and moved to open the door for Frederick to wheel himself through. Laura and Emily were right on his heels, or wheels rather. 

It was only three blocks to the pool, and when they arrived, thankfully there weren’t many other kids there. Freddie was getting tired of having to drag up dirt on the neighbors because their kids, or they themselves, had made some snarky comment about how Frederick looked, often within his hearing. She wouldn’t stop doing it, however, so they better get used to it.

She parked Frederick’s chair a safe distance away from the pool and spread out a beach towel, letting the girls run off into the pool.

\---

The first person they encountered was a kid they’d never met before, a tiny girl with caramel skin who seemed to be about their age and introduced herself as Ronisha. 

“I’m new,” she explained. “From Nebraska. My mom grew up around here, though.”

“Our parents are both from here,” Laura told her in response. “That’s them over there.” She braced herself, but only got a “hmm” as an acknowledgement. “The one with all the…”

“The burn scars? Yeah,” Ronisha said. 

“You still wanna hang out?” Emily cut in. “It’s cool if you don’t.”

The girl shrugged.

“People’s looks don’t really… matter that much? I mean, my mom’s blind, so yeah. It’s not like… y’know.”

“Sucks,” Laura replied, then seemed to feel the need to provide more explanation, “It was before we were born, I mean, so…”

“I don’t know my dad. We don’t talk about him… Let’s just swim.”

\---

Frederick could remember the first day, or at least, one of the first. Sometime during the never-ending parade of skin graft surgeries, Freddie Lounds had walked into his hospital room with a book of Sudoku puzzles and a rant about exactly what could happen to Will Graham as far as she was concerned. Some of the things she was saying seemed rather anatomically impossible, particularly those that featured him, Jack, the Dragon, and a fire engine.

Frederick, who had been feeling as close to ending it all as he ever had, had felt a strange surge at the attention, as much as he was suspicious of it.

In his mind’s eye, he had been smiling.

\---

“Need anything?” Freddie inquired, propping her laptop open on the blanket and making sure to stay a safe distance from the pool. “I was about to see how much those hot dogs were.”

“Probably in the seven dollar range,” Frederick replied with a cheeky grin. “They probably consider them gourmet or some such.”

“Jesse James used a gun,” Freddie commiserated. “You can smuggle in drinks but you can’t really smuggle in food. Anything good, at least.” 

“Perk of all my problems, I suppose. Salads tend to travel.”

Freddie put her laptop down and scooted up against her husband, draping an arm over his shoulder. She leaned in to kiss him on the side of the head.

“I love it when you talk salads to me.”

\---

“Come on, girls! Time to head back!”

“We’d better go,” Emily said with a sigh. “It was nice to meet you, though. Is your mom coming to get you? Uh, I mean…”

“Nah, I usually just walk back,” Ronisha explained. “She goes a lot more places than you might think, but the pool’s kinda dangerous I think. Slippery. People die in pools every year.” She ducked under, then came back up.

“That’s…cheery,” Laura replied. “Hey, lemme see if our mom can give you a ride back.”

“Sure! I mean, if it’s no big deal.”

They trailed back up to the spot where Freddie was standing, everything packed up and ready to go. 

“Who’s this?” she inquired. 

“This is Ronisha. Can we give her a ride?”

Freddie sighed.

“Oh, all right. Nice to meet you.” She offered her hand. “I’m Freddie Lounds, this is my husband, Frederick Chilton.”

Ronisha raised an eyebrow.

“You’re both named Fred.”

“My parents were Lawrence and Florence,” Frederick cut in. “Our kids get off easy.”

\---

Frederick remembered how hard it had been, the first few months, the first years. He had always been someone to take pride in his appearance. Now, that had been something to be left in the past.

Looking back now, he thought of the adage about beauty only being skin deep. He looked down at his arms, at the little criss-cross scars where the skin grafts hadn’t managed to completely overtake the burns. 

He ran his tongue over the synthetic material in front of them and figured that it could be worse. Oh, it could always be worse. He was out of the rat race now, and for good. He’d let Freddie chase the stories, chase the whackos, chase the fame.

He reached up and rubbed his nose. 

Some days, he felt like the Six Million Dollar Man.

\---

They walked back to the house, first, before loading Frederick into the van and driving to Ronisha’s mom’s house. The girls stayed, eager to see where their new friend lived, jokingly promising to “stalk her” or hang outside with a radio and play Peter Gabriel. Frederick smirked as he thought to himself that his daughters had never seen the kind of radio used in Say Anything, not in real life at least.

Freddie parked the van in front of a small rowhome that was nestled behind a dogwood tree. 

“I’ll walk you up,” she volunteered, but Frederick shook his head.

“I could use the exercise.”

He opened the door and climbed out, grabbing the cane off the dashboard.

“You don’t have to,” Ronisha said sheepishly, but Frederick shrugged.

“Trust me. With the things my wife and I have seen, we don’t take any chances.”

He walked her up to the patio with slow, shuffling steps, hearing the cane clink on the concrete. He was pretty sure that within the next hour, it was going to rain.

Frederick reached out and knocked on the door.

A woman appeared behind the screen door, standing with a cane of her very own, and Frederick very nearly gasped.

The door opened, and the young girl walked inside. The woman lingered a moment.

“Hello.”

“Hello,” Frederick replied. “Your daughter and mine were playing at the pool so… my wife and I thought we’d bring her back.”

“That’s very nice of you.” She paused, the opened the door a little wider, turned her head slightly to the side. “I could have swore I know you from somewhere. What did you say your name was?”

“It’s not important,” Frederick said quickly. “I… I think I have one of those faces.” He gave a slight, uncomfortable chuckle. “You have a good night, ma’am.”

“Good night.” The door shut, and Reba McClane retired to her house for the night.

\---

Frederick lay in bed, stretched out on his back, staring up at the ceiling. His wife was already fast asleep, red hair falling all over the white pillows. She never stayed up late anymore; she always had to get back to the office early in the morning these days.

Sometimes it was hard to sleep, like every bit of him was on pins and needles.

He turned to his side and draped an arm around Freddie. She was soft to the touch. After twelve years, he still had a lot of pain in more places than he could name, but he also had a safe place. He could close his eyes and know that something surrounding this house kept out monsters and red dragons.

If he wanted to get sentimental, he could say it was love.

Instead, he just liked to think of it as him being, at last, a very lucky man. 

Frederick Chilton shut his eyes and drifted off to sleep.


End file.
